Randal Kolo Muani – All Action, No Plot

Spurs 1-2 Fulham: Three Tottenham Talking Points

1. Frank’s Insistence on Crosses, Crosses and Nothing But Crosses

One can well imagine the creased brow with which Herre Frank glugged down his morning brew at the breakfast table today, because the shipping of disastrous goals, and ceding of points to a team that, for all their merits, peddle utter bilge each away day without fail, doth not a happy camper make. Speaking as one man about the world to another, I do of course, incline the head sympathetically towards the chap. No-one really likes to see one’s fellow man take a bit of a kicking, especially when that fellow m. is an egg as laden with sound moral fibre as Thomas Frank.

This, however, is not a business for sympathy and consoling cuddles. It is, simply, a business for scoring more goals than the other lot – preferably doing so while swanning around the place playing the sort of breezy football that makes onlookers go weak at the knees and purr with admiration. And Thomas Frank does none of the above.

The drill is, presumably, to sort out the defence first of all, and peddle some pretty basic attacking fare up the other end, to help keep results ticking over. Now the word “presumably” is doing some generous grunt-work in that sentence, because our defence in its current state is anything but “sorted out”. And should any smooth-talker try to convince me otherwise, I would wave at them the 11 goals we’ve conceded within the last week alone. No matter the standard of the opposition, 11 goals in a week is laying it on a bit thick.

So after three months at the big desk, Frank has hardly worked wonders at the back. One might wave a forgiving hand. Ours, after all, is a defence that has creaked away for several decades.

Where AANP cracks his knuckles and shoots the inscrutable glare, however, is in the attacking third. Specifically, it’s Frank’s seeming insistence that the road to goals is paved with crosses from the wing and crosses from the wing only.

The chap seems to labour under the misapprehension that to build niftily through the centre is to commit some foul abuse against humanity. Of zingy one-touch football in the middle lanes there is no sign.

For clarity, I have no significant allergy to crosses from the wing. When delivered well they tend to be mightily effective, That Beckham character may have long ago disappeared under the detritus of celebrity, but once upon a time his crossing from the flank was an instrument of considerable impact. Indeed, as and when Senor Porro gets round to reading this, I don’t doubt that he’ll start gesticulating wildly and scream forcefully in my direction about how effective his deliveries can be.

However, by and large, crosses can be defended, if the unit tasked with so-doing know their defensive onions. One only needed to keep an eye on proceedings yesterday to note how the whole attacking strategy can be rendered null and void if the defenders arrange themselves at the appropriate coordinates. Our lot seemed to lob a decent number of crosses towards the area in each half, almost all of which seemed promptly to be repelled. To say that the plan had limited efficacy would be to undersell the thing.

The alternative, of a spot of midfield guile, seems to be well down the agenda. A stat before the midweek CL game suggested that our heroes had racked up a grand total of 4 through-balls all season, and I don’t know about you, but that one boggled the dickens out of my innocent little mind. I make that about one through-ball every 4 matches, which speaks volumes for the level of creativity spouting forth from the lilywhite midfield. That Simons has been banished to the bench in recent weeks says much.

As mentioned above, I can only assume that Frank considers defence the current priority, during which period of stabilization he will instruct the forwards to adopt the simplest route to goal, by going wide and crossing. AANP does not like the whiff.

2. Vicario

Mind you, Frank might have had the best plans in the world, but there’s no real legislating for a moment as knuckle-headed as Vicario’s little wander-and-kamikaze routine. Golly. As howlers go, it was a pearler. Credit to the Fulham chappie I suppose, because he was hardly presented with a tap-in; but nevertheless, the headline of that particular episode was the dreadful mess single-handedly crafted by our resident gatekeeper.

The reaction to Vicario thereafter – and I refer to the ongoing booing that followed the young bean throughout the game like a nasty spectre, rather than the immediate release of astonished vitriol in the 20 or so seconds after the goal – was not really cricket. Flag that he’s made an error, by all means. Bestow a dozen or so curses upon his lineage, of course. But thereafter, once the deed has been done and the head hung in shame, upon the restart of the game there is no real reason to keep giving him the bird throughout. Not really sure what purpose that served.

Back to the error itself, however, and as a lad who’s not exactly garnered universal acclaim during his lilywhite career, for one reason or another, you’d have thought that he’d have had the good sense to minimise the risk of increased opprobrium, particularly the sort brought upon oneself at a time of minimal preceding risk.

And minimal preceding risk was abundant in N17 when Vicario first wandered from his post to inspect the left touchline and take possession. Pedants might point out that a Fulham nib made a perfunctory toddle in his direction, but I’m not sure any jury would accept that the match had entered a high-stakes moment at that juncture. Any onlooker of sound mind would have advised the basic two-step: “Clear the ball, return to the goal”.

Whatever the hell then crossed Vicario’s mind next is a little tricky to fathom, but the takeaway, particularly amongst those who have viewed him with a suspicious eye, was that he tries to be far too clever, rather than sticking to the goalkeeping basics.

There was not a great deal he could have done about the first, nor indeed about any of the five that flew past him midweek – but drop a clanger of yesterday’s ilk, and precious few in attendance will shout from the rooftops about how innocent he was during the preceding half-dozen conceded.

No doubt Frank will stick with him, and we are hardly overflowing with obvious alternatives; nor am I particularly calling for his expulsion from the unit. I do advise the chap, however, to keep his head down and keep things as inconspicuous as possible in the coming weeks. There is a time to draw attention to oneself, and a time to melt quietly into the background; and the age in which we live is very much the latter.

3. Kolo Muani

Finishing off on a brighter note, as goodness knows we need one, it’s at least encouraging to see young Kolo Muani start to deliver on the sunny optimism that greeted his arrival, at least at AANP Towers.

It was a different era, of course, all joviality and positivity, but when he and Simons scrawled their initials on the dotted line, a couple of little jigs were danced around these parts.

Naturally, this being N17, there then followed the standard spate of injuries, but in midweek at PSG, and then yesterday, I thought that he at least started to look the sort of fellow who, quite frankly, seems too good for our lot. Obvious though it may seem, I was particularly enamoured of the volleyed goal in Paris, and while in yesterday’s second half there was a general uptick in performance across the suite, Monsieur K-M also struck me as the standout performer in the first half.

The bar is pretty low, admittedly. Richarlison gives the impression of a fairly moderate player near the peak of limited powers; Kudus has evidently something about him; but Kolo Muani, by virtue of his technique and ability to do naturally what most others would probably consider pretty exceptional, strikes me as quite the diamond in the rough.

It would, of course, make more sense to wax lyrical about the chap after a match in which he actually saves the day, or embellishes the day, or in general just peddles his wares on a slightly more positive day for our lot – but given the doom, gloom and general exasperation brought on by results of the last week or so, a dollop of silver linings does no harm, what?

Everton 0-3 Spurs: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. The Formation

If you had caught a glimpse of AANP during the opening exchanges of this one, you’d have spotted him viewing proceedings with eyes narrowed and brow furrowed; and if on the basis of the narrowed e. and furrowed b. you’d inferred that he was having a dickens of a time trying to work out the formation adopted by our heroes, you’d have been bang on the money. Which, ironically enough, is precisely what AANP was not bang on when trying to decipher that set-up.

The first thought that floated between the AANP ears was that Our Glorious Leader had gone with two right wingers at the same time. Which, if true, would have been Thomas Frank’s prerogative, of course. He’s the shot-caller, after all. If he wanted to go down the Not-Typically-Done route then he had every right. As long as it works, went the AANP take, then do your damnedest.

But while I was lustily supporting this little tactical quirk, it dawned on me that whatever our formation was, it wasn’t one featuring two right wingers. The next notion to spring to mind was wing-backs, but this did not seem quite right either. Spence, perhaps, was adopting wing-back-like poses on the left; but out on the right, Johnson didn’t really appear to be signing up to the “back” part of the wing-back arrangement.

And what, I asked myself, was Kudus? Or perhaps more pertinently, where was Kudus? Because for what I assumed was a Number 10 sort of role, he seemed to be drifting out to the right an awful lot.

Anyway, the main takeaway of all this was that it’s a good job I’m not a manager, as I’d have spent most of that first half simply goggling at the lilywhite formation rather than doing anything useful.

With the dust settled, I guess it was a 3-2-4-1 sort of get-up, in possession at least – with Spence and Johnson up the flanks, and Simons and Kudus inside them. Frankly, the label matters little at this point, for the gist is that it ought to have provided a few more passing options whenever we advanced up the pitch, as well as the standard defensive stability of the Palhinha-Bentancur double-act.

I suggest that it “ought” to have provided more passing options going forward, because in practice the quick passing routines didn’t really register. Not that it mattered too much today, given that our set-piece sequences were immaculately choreographed, and all defensive parts in fine working order at the other end. But I nevertheless noted, with a sigh that was two parts patience and one part disappointment, that despite a Spence-Simons-Kudus-Johnson line supporting Kolo Muani, we remained a little light on the old whizz-bang when trundling forward.

2. Set-Pieces

One can’t have it all, however, and to criticise in the slightest a 3-0 away win at a mighty imposing estate would be pretty off. With two goals nodded in from set-pieces this had the Frank fingerprints all over it.

I view set-pieces much as I view technology, in that it ought to supplement rather than replace the honest sweat and endeavour of the good souls involved, and our heroes used it marvellously today, supplementing things like billy-o.

There was the delivery, for a start. The Porro corner for our second contained a level of spite that ought really not to be allowed before the watershed. It absolutely fizzed into the area, to such an extent that had it not been converted one would really have had no option but to launch an independent enquiry to understand why not. Mercifully, Van de Ven had the good sense to give the ‘keeper a knowing shove and then angle his head appropriately, but while it was the Dutchman who drank in the plaudits, the AANP glass was raised to Porro.

While the delivery for the opening goal (courtesy of Kudus) did not necessarily carry quite the same level of menace, it being swung a tad more gently towards the far post for Bentancur, I did nevertheless applaud its accuracy. A yard higher or lower and the whole operation would have crumbled in its infancy. Kudus, to his credit, dropped the thing at the designated coordinates, and at the designated time and – critically – at the designated height.

Interestingly, although that aforementioned D.H. was, specifically, head height, Bentancur took it upon himself to improvise a little. And there was no harm in that at all. If a little innovation was good enough for Thomas Frank when doodling his formations, then it was good enough for Bentancur when arriving at the back-post. One might well have spotted Bentancur mouthing the words, as he shimmered towards the back post, “Just because it’s called ‘Head height’ does not preclude me from using my shoulder, what?”

The moment of improv. worked swimmingly, and VDV’s head-angling got its first taste of action. And let’s face it, if the t’s are crossed and i’s dotted on set-pieces as meticulously as that, then there is a little less pressure on the front five to string together too many slick passes.

3. Danso

As mentioned, VDV knew a good thing from approximately two yards out when he saw one, and full credit to him, but with Romero again missing – that innocuous pre-match ‘knock’ of last week proving a dashed sight more sinister than we had initially been led to believe – I once again adjusted the monocle and subjected young Master Danso to feverish scrutiny throughout.

And once again – for the third time in a week, in fact – the fellow emerged with a laudable report card. One doesn’t have to search too hard to find a fish of lilywhite persuasion who will fold their arms, tilt their head and remark sadly that the absence of Romero deprives us of some incisive passing from the back, the undertone being that we might as well all pack up and go home in the absence of such line-breaking gold. AANP, however, is a more traditional sort of egg, brought up to believe that a defender’s purpose in life is to defend, and it was with this anthem on my lips that I meted out the approving nod and slapped the approving thigh each time Danso unveiled another of the defensive basics.

I think I heard within the post-match burble that Danso rattled off more clearances than anyone else in the vicinity, and while I couldn’t put a hand on the Bible and swear to it, I certainly would not be surprised. He seemed fully committed throughout to the basic notion that Ball Near Goal was Bad, and Ball Away From Goal was Good – and frankly it was an attitude that I could get on board with.

He might not necessarily be the sort of fish we want manning the helm when Europe’s elite come to town, but for an hour and a half in the pouring rain in Everton, he put the fevered mind at ease.

4. Vicario

A congratulatory word also for our resident back-stop, who had seemingly been convinced that the final whistle at Monaco still had not sounded, and consequently just carried on where he left off there.

Two second half saves in particular were of the absolute highest order. Admittedly I say that from a position of general ignorance when it comes to this goalkeeping lark, but to stick out a paw from point-blank range when the opposition chappie is pulling off an overhead kick seemed to take some doing; while the save from a shot that took two deflections really did have me purring in admiration. Reflexes, one was inclined to murmur, maketh the top-notch save.

My views on Vicario at corners remain a little more mixed – for every successful punch to the edge of the area there seemed also to be one rather sorry attempt to propel himself forward that was aborted midway through when he ran into a jungle of bodies. However, this was a day to salute, again, the fellow’s fine shot-stopping, and those two second half saves were essentially worth goals.

A second clean sheet, on the road, within three days, is not to be sniffed at, and certainly provides a useful base upon which to build a hale and hearty future; concerns about creativity can wait for another day.